


Mark of the Moon

by fish-with-a-pencil (DeadFeesh24)



Category: House of Night - P. C. Cast & Kristin Cast
Genre: Basically all the cast is here, Do they make friends with the ghosts? Read on to find out!, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, M/M, Paranormal Mystery, The Power of Friendship™, fix-it fic to its logical conclusion, more tags to be added when they're no longer spoilers, rampant worldbuilding, this is a rewrite afterall, unless they're bi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-03-28 01:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13893663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadFeesh24/pseuds/fish-with-a-pencil
Summary: My attempt to fix House of Night.Zoey Montgomery suddenly finds her life in upheaval: she's been marked to become a vampire!  Now she must live in the House of Night, a specialized boarding school that guides young fledgelings through the Change, the biological metamorphosis that turns them into adult vampires.  Now she must juggle school and friends with her mysterious new power: being able to see the spirits of the dead and send them into the afterlife.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not quite sure why there’s a wild hare up my ass that wants me to revisit this, but this is the third draft of this fic on my computer, the oldest one being from fucking 2015, so I think it’s time to just see it through for once, or at least try.
> 
> First, please let me explain the long, long road that lead me here.
> 
> I first read House of Night when I was still in middle school. At the time, it was not the best thing I had read, but I enjoyed the worldbuilding nonetheless, and made it through about half of the series before I lost steam. My first year of community college, nostalgia drew me back, and I was stunned that I ever enjoyed this. Still, I was weirdly affectionate over this awful series, and I thought that the premise was fun enough.
> 
> Throughout my college career, these damn books keep sucking me back in, despite the fact that I can barely make it through a single page without closing the book again. So, a while back, I started thinking about what I'd write if I were to redo the series. And then I did it, to varying levels of commitment.
> 
> Now that I've been writing a lot more fanfic and don't care much for what others might think of me, I've decided to take a whack at it once more, for your reading pleasure.

I never want to hear anyone complain about Mondays ever again.

No one, for the rest of human existence, is allowed to give me that insipid half smile and say, “ _Mondays, right?_ ” No Chad, stop it. I don’t care that you’re hungover, or you spent all weekend frolicking and forgot to do all your homework, and I certainly don’t care that you have to get up at six AM to perfect your hairstyle. We _all_ get up at six AM. Go commiserate with someone else.

 _T_ _his_ , is a shitty Monday; the tip top of the mountain of crap that is all the Mondays of the world: the Monday that ruined my entire life.

It’s after math; Kayla’s got her arm linked with mine as she rattles off all the changes she’s made over the weekend to the robotics club’s mascot, and I only half listen as we walk to our lockers. It’s kind of adorable, but I’ve been sick all week and I’m exhausted from all the coughing, and Kayla’s voice, hypnotic and familiar, is practically putting me to sleep as we head to our lockers.

I’m so out of it that I don’t see him until Kayla and I are almost on top of him. Some guy with dark hair and an all black uniform to match, leaning against my locker. He’s talking amiably to Vice Principal Cohen, his black ponytail bobbing as he laughs.

I nudge Kayla and whisper, “whose funeral is he going to?”

He turns to look at me inhuman precision. I couldn’t see it before, but looking at him head on I can see his Mark; the faint outline of a crescent moon. This guy is a vampire fledgeling.  “Zoey Montgomery.” He closes the gap between us in a couple smooth strides. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

I freeze.  Everybody knows it’s bad news when a vampire shows up at your locker. They don't show up to just say hi; no, they come to human high schools for one reason only: to mark new fledgelings. Apparently, I’m the fresh meat.

Catching on to my shock, Kayla takes the lead. “Wait, what do you mean, ‘finally meet you’? How do you know Zoey’s name?”

“The oracle at our school gave us your name about a week ago.  We just had to plan the trip to mark you,” the boy says easily. He gives me a tiny, apologetic smile. “It’s my first time marking someone; I’ve been on pins and needles all week!”

“Marking someone?” Kayla goes pale and clutches my arm harder.

“I’m so sorry to give you the news like this,” Mr. Cohen says quietly, “if you’d like, all four of us can speak in my office. Big changes like this are always difficult.”

There’s already a crowd gathering. I nod, and Mr. Cohen leads us back towards the administrative wing. My classmates part like I’ve got the plague; the moment we’re past I can hear the murmurs come up behind us, ‘did you see, did you see? There’s a vampire! Someone’s getting marked!’

Kayla’s weight, as she holds onto my arm, soothes me. I try to focus on her, instead of the whispers that’ve already started.

When we enter Mr. Cohen’s office, there’s only a single lamp on, and the shades are pulled down all the way. He has those shades with slats, so he can have them turned just so, and the sunlight comes through in tiny lines, all across the room. I’ve never been in here before; my mother would’ve died if I ever got sent to the principal’s office. I can practically hear her wailing now, _“oh, what will the neighbors think?”_

“ _We have a reputation to keep, after all,”_ she’d say, wagging her finger or spatula or spoon, whatever was in her hand basically; she practically lived in the kitchen now.

“Come, take a seat,” the Vice Principal says. He’s nervous, a bit twitchy; every few seconds, his eyes flick back to the vampire-boy like he’s expecting something horrible to happen any second now.

Vampire-boy settles into a chair next to the desk. “So, uh, I’m Erik, I’m here to mark you… But more importantly, I’m here to guide you through the process. I’m supposed to give you these” —he hands over a small bundle of pamphlets— “but I’m pretty sure those were printed eons ago, and they never did me any good...”

I nod dumbly. Kayla takes the pamphlets.

“So,” I say, “is this gonna hurt? How do you get the Mark? Am I gonna want to drink blood now? Do I grow fangs? Is this why I’ve been sick all week?” I could go on, but I stop before I embarrass myself even more.

Erik pauses for a moment, thinking. “Yes, but only for a little while; magic; only when you get older; yes–again, when you get older; and yes. Oh, and that sickness will get worse if you don’t get marked and come live with adult vampires, and then you die.”

“Wait, die? You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Kayla cries out. “How the hell have I not read about this?”

“That barely ever happens anymore, unless your parents, like, lock you in the house.” He says.

Kayla and I share a nervous look. I wouldn’t put it past John, my step-father, to lock me in my room and try to heal me with the power of prayer.

“And as far as the magic thing goes, I didn’t believe in it either,” Erik says. “But I can’t let you stay and watch. It’s supposed to be a private ritual.”

Erik starts grabbing things from his bag: a leather-bound book, some candles, and a weird grey crystal. It’s the same shape as those quartz crystals you might see in those new age meditation shops, but deep grey and cloudy, with tiny, shimmering, dark specks suspended inside.

“Yeah, I’d rather Kayla stay,” I say, hoping that my voice is firm enough to end the discussion there.

“I understand, and I’m really sorry about this.”

Erik cups the crystal in both his hands, and bows his head, and it glows with a strange, muted light. Then, he raises his head and says to Kayla, “ _Leave_.”

My best friend rises from her seat and heads towards the door like a puppet; I call her name, but it’s like she doesn’t even hear me.

Erik turns to Mr. Cohen. “You too. Go outside and wait.” I can’t tell if he’s still using magic or if Mr. Cohen is just scared into obedience, but either way he hurries out without a word.

“So, any more questions before we start?” He’s still infuriatingly friendly.

“What the hell was that?!”

“That was a thrall,” he says, “even fledgelings have immense power over humans, when we use these.” He brandishes the crystal. “It’s power that’ll be yours soon. I know that all of this is strange and maybe a little scary, but please, trust me. You’re about to embark on a whole new life.”

“Or die.” That I do remember from biology; one in five fledgelings die before they can become adult vampires.

“But, you’ll definitely die if I don’t mark you,” he says nonchalantly, like he’s talking about the weather. “It only takes about ten days, maybe twelve if you’re lucky, or unlucky. All your major organs shut down, one by one.”

I’ve already been sick for a week.

Plus, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in magical powers.

“Right. Let’s get this over with.”

“Perfect!” Erik’s smile is wide and a little creepy, but I smile back anyway.

He hums to himself as he works, setting up his candles in a circle, with the crystal in the center. Each candle is a different color; going clockwise, there’s a yellow one, then a red one, then a blue and a green, and he lights them in the same order.

Then, he reads from his leather book.

“ _Nyx,_ _Lady Night, mother of night and moonlight and all that walk in your shade_ _,_ _w_ _e ask that you welcome your new daughter Zoey into your open arms_ _as she begins her journey into your blessed night.”_

“ _Zoey Montgomery!_ _Night has chosen you_ _. Today you will be reborn to walk the path of_ _darkness, to wander under the stars in Mother Nyx’s loving embrace. With this_ _M_ _ark, you will forever leave humanity behind, to join your brothers and sisters of the night.”_

With that, he presses his finger to the center of my forehead, and in a bright flash of pain, I pass out.

* * *

Kayla drives me home. I’m in no shape to drive; we abandon her pickup in the school parking lot and take my robin’s egg blue vintage bug back to my house. Kayla keeps up her chatter the whole way, commenting on the news on the radio, singing along with the ad jingles, little things that keep me from drowning in my head.

I can’t stop staring at myself, in the mirror, in the window, staring at tender Mark on my forehead. It’s not as intense as I expected it to be; it’s definitely blue and it’s definitely there, but the Mark hides under my skin almost like a vein, but a little bolder. It looks natural, in a way. I wonder what my full mark will look like, if I make it that far.

By the time we pull into my driveway, I’ve put enough brain cells together to make words. “Ten bucks says my mom’s head turns around exorcist style,” I say. I’m going for funny.

Kayla winces, but still laughs. “Twenty bucks says she crawls on the ceiling starts speaking in latin.”

“I’ll take that action,” I say. We shake on it.

From the outside, I suppose our home is pretty nice. We’ve got the perfectly manicured lawn, the pool, the sprawling suburban castle of a house, three car garage, the works. When we first moved here, even I was taken too; my sister and I finally had separate rooms, and everything was so gorgeous. We all thought that our family had finally made it.

Too bad it’s all rotten.

My mom sold her soul to get this damn house. She became a doormat, sorry, _housewife_ , for John, just so we could all live in the shiniest, richest neighborhood. I barely recognize her anymore.

When I was young, mom’s whole world was me and my siblings.

Every weekend we’d take a drive; it didn’t matter where, all that mattered was that we were all together, sing-screaming whatever came on the radio. Sometimes she’d just take us to the movies, others she’d drive us to national parks or museums, or even across state lines, just for fun.

She’d fight the whole world just to make it to our concerts and recitals, waving a glittery, handmade banner, just so all my classmates knew how embarrassing she could be.

Today, she’s got her one and only apron on, one I made for her when I was still in pre-k. It has my tiny toddler handprints all over it, and in my teacher’s handwriting: “#1 Mom”. Back then, she had earned it.

Now, I wish I could take it back; all she does is lord it over me now. Like my love for her is power she can use against me.

I call to her from the kitchen door; my voice wavers pathetically. “Mami, something happened at school. I need your help.”

“Mija, what’s wrong?” The moment she looks up, her eyes go wide in shock. I brace myself for the worst. Instead, she hurries over to me and cups my face in her hands. “Mijita, are you okay? How do you feel?”

“My head hurts,” I mumble, “and I’m scared. I thought you were going to be mad that I got marked.”

“No, no, little one.” Mami pulls me close, and I rest my head on her shoulder. “This wasn’t your fault. I’m worried, for your safety, but you didn’t _choose_ to get marked.”

“If I don’t go to the House of Night today, the Tracker said I’d get even sicker. I could die.”

“Then we don’t have any time to waste. Come on, let’s make you an overnight bag.”

I follow my mom to my bedroom, upstairs.

My room is a little on the small side, but I make it work. Mom never let me paint the walls, but I was allowed to put up posters of star-maps and glow-in-the-dark stars; my whole ceiling is covered in them. My furniture’s kind of plain, just a white bed with drawers, and a matching dresser. For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved the night sky, so much so that Kayla made me a bed canopy with little electric lights, in the patterns of different constellations. When I was a kid, my ceiling lamp was a rotating solar system.

Sitting down on my bed, I realize I probably won’t ever sleep here again.

Before I can stop myself, I ask, “what happens if I die?”

The statistics say that one in five fledgelings don’t make the change; there’s a one in five chance that this ‘new life’ will be an early death. Death itself is scary enough, but I can’t stop thinking about the things I’ll leave behind. My mom, my abuela, my siblings, Kayla. Even stupid, materialistic things, like my bed, my books. Nobody plans for funerals this young, you know.

When I die, do my memories disappear too? Do vampire fledgelings go to heaven?

My mom comes and sits next to me on my bed, and wraps a comforting arm around my shoulder. I can’t remember the last time we’ve sat like this, the last time I’ve felt this safe around her. Even now, my gut is waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I don’t know, baby. I want to believe something comes after, something better. But I also know that if all we do is wait on what comes next, we never deal with the world we have now.” She squeezes my shoulder. “You’re old enough that I don’t have to sugar coat this: there is a chance you might die. But there’s a bigger chance that you won’t. And this is an opportunity. You can either sit and do nothing, or you can take it by the horns. For all we know, you might really like the House of Night! Maybe you’ll really like your classmates, or there are clubs. And you’ll be closer to all those shops you like in Tulsa—and to Abuelita’s farm! It isn’t all bad.

“If I don’t die,” I grumble.

“Let’s put that aside. I don’t think I have it in me to think about that right now.” She stands up and starts digging through my dresser. “Now, what pajamas are you bringing?”

“The pink sheep, please.” My head is still running a mile a minute, trying to pin down a thought is practically impossible. But I keep thinking about Mami, and how she changed, why she changed. I can’t understand how she switches between the two versions of herself so easily, scolding and pious in front of John, and then, when it’s just the two of us, _this_. I want to keep this forever.

I ask, “why did you marry John?”

Mami sighs, stuffs my pajamas into my bag with a touch more force than necessary. “I love him, Zoey. When you marry someone, you make a promise. Not just to be by their side, but to improve them, to love their faults like you love the rest of them. John isn’t perfect, but he’s a good man. And I meant every word of my vows.”

“It’s just, I miss when it was just us.”

“So do I, baby, so do I.” She says it so quietly I can barely hear it. She probably didn’t want me to, so I pretend I don’t hear her.

* * *

Mami sends me off to “my new life” with a kiss on the forehead and another tight hug, and then, as Kayla and I leave for the House of Night, mom takes a trip to the U-Haul. For a solid five minutes, I can see her in the rear-view mirror, crying, but staring resolutely ahead. She gives me a weak smile when I wave at her as our cars part, and then her car takes an exit.

It feels like I’ll never see her again.

Tulsa is about an hour from my home, a long dark stretch of freeway between me and my mother, my friends, everything that I know. I know that’s not really a lot, but I feel every mile as we drive into the dark, only seeing what the headlights pick up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONE. I’ve compressed the first four chapters into a single, interesting chunk. Along the same lines, I’ve compressed the cast, and Erik is the lucky winner of this chapter’s extended role. Why have a mysterious throw-away character mark Zoey when you could entangle the main cast in worldbuilding? I have plans for other role-reductions as well. 
> 
> Aside from that, I'm trying to set up a background for the tone of my fic here, because after this there's gonna be a jump. That's why this is a prologue, not chapter one.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome, as always, and if anyone wants to yell with me about these dumpster-books, go yell at me in the comments. Maybe I'll make a discord.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey arrives at the House of Night, and tries her best to settle in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this last time, but I decided to make Zoey latina because I knew I wasn't equipped to accurately handle native american issues, but I am latinx and could actually do that justice. I'll have some more notes on what I've changed in the end notes.
> 
> Enjoy!

The House of Night looks literally like a castle. There’s probably an actual name for the architectural style of the campus, but, let’s be honest here, I have no idea what it is. There’s black slate roofs and pale grey stonework on every building, and, on the higher floors, elaborate stained glass windows. The closest one I can see has the silhouette of a woman in warm yellow glass, ensconced in a round, lead lined window. There’s a crescent moon above her upraised hands, bathing the landscape behind her in silver light.

To add to the castle-like atmosphere, the whole campus is fenced in by a massive stone wall, topped with gas lamps and wrought iron spikes. For a school, it seems weirdly well-defended; from the street you can’t see anything except the rooftops, like they’re shut out from the outside world.

Kayla and I arrive around ten PM. Exhausted and twitchy from the long car ride, we stop right outside the gate and take a moment to stretch.

“Man, my back hurts,” Kayla says. As she raises her arms above her head, her shirt lifts, revealing a constellation of adorable freckles on her stomach. She’s still got a bit of a tan from spending all summer at the community pool; she was usually diligent about putting on sunblock, but it always washed away in the water. Even with sunblock, I remind myself, I’d never be able to go to the pool with her again.

“Tell me about it,” I reply. There’s a guard right at the gate, staring at the two of us, a vampire.  He steps out of the security booth next to the gate, the only modern thing I can see. He’s watching Kayla, frowning, then he sees me, and his face smooths out into something more welcoming. I wave. “Hello?”

“Welcome to your new life, fledgeling. Do you have any bags that need to be taken to your dorm?”

“No, just my backpack.” I quickly grab it from the back seat and throw it over my shoulder.

“Alright. Your mentor and roommate are waiting just inside. I’ll give you a moment to say goodbye.”

I freeze.  Dread spreads like ice through my veins.  “Goodbye? Can’t she come and see my new school?”

Kayla pipes up, “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to see this place, can’t I take a little peek?”

“No humans allowed. Sorry.” It doesn’t sound like he really means sorry.

“Come on, just a little bit? I’m so far from home.”

Before he can answer, the gate rolls open, retreating into the stone wall. On the other side, there’s a vampire woman, and a fledgeling. The girl has short, blonde ringlets that frame her round, tan face, and the vampire woman is a redhead with bottle green eyes. Her hair is long, braided over one shoulder and pulled away from her face, showing off a mark that looks a little like curled waves, framing a filled in crescent moon.

"Welcome, Zoey!  I'm Neferet." When she smiles at me, it feels like I have her full attention; I knew that vampires were special, but I never truly realized it until now.  I suddenly feel at ease, when Neferet grabs my forearm and gives it a shake. "We're so glad to see you've arrived. How was your journey here?"

"Long.  My back hurts a little." I shrug.  "I'm just glad to be on my feet again.  Hey, the guard said Kayla couldn't come in, is there any way you could make an exception?  I'm really nervous, and it'd be nice to have her there."

She smiles again, somehow brighter than before, and strokes my hair.  "I think I can make an exception for my new fledgeling. You're going to be under my care, after all.  I'd like you to settle in smoothly." Neferet greets Kayla in the same way, grabbing her forearm instead of her hand.  

Kayla, to her credit, is pretty chill about the strange greeting, giving Neferet a warm smile.  "It's nice to meet you Neferet. You better take good care of Zoey."

"You have my word."

"Good." There's an edge in Kayla's words I know all too well; it's the same half-sweet voice you never want to disagree with, lest you want the school's fifty pound competition robot to run over your toes.

Neferet turns back to me, and puts her hand on the blonde fledgeling's shoulder.  "This is Stevie-Rae Nieves, by the way. She's your new roommate."

"Hey," she says nervously, "it's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," I reply, "I'm Zoey.  But you probably knew that already…"

Stevie-Rae laughed for a moment.  "Yeah, no worries. It's a little weird at first, how much the vamps here know about us, but you get used to it.  It's really nice to meet you, Zoey. And you too…" She turns to Kayla.

"Kayla," she says, reaching out to shake her hand, "I'm Zoey's best friend.  We've known each other since pre-school."

"Wow, that's so cool!  My family moved around a lot, so I never got to make friends like that, until I got marked.  It must be nice."

Kayla gives me a smile that lights up her whole face.  "It really is."

* * *

We get a tour of the campus, Kayla's hand in mine the whole time, only stopping to interlace our fingers.  Every so often Kayla would squeeze my hand in morse code, just little things, like 'NEAT', or 'COOL'. She had taught me years ago when she came back from code camp, and it had been out secret communication method ever since.

'HEY.  STARING?' She subtly jutted her chin out to the students watching us, tracing a question mark lightly on my palm.

'YEAH,' I squeeze back. 'UR HUMAN, MAYBE?'

'MAYBE.'  She stares right back, but the other kids don't avert their eyes.  They just keep watching, silent judgement painted clearly on their faces. 'WEIRD.'

"So, Zoey, this is the courtyard.  Between classes students often spend their time here, to enjoy the night air.  You'll probably find that you're more sensitive, especially to light, but you'll also enjoy the subtleties of nighttime more, the birdsong, the starlight.  We encourage fledgelings to cultivate these feelings, give them extra time between classes to enjoy their surroundings." Neferet says, waving an arm as if to showcase the little courtyard.

It's beautiful, well kept cobble paths with beautiful gardens, and in the center of it all a marble fountain.  It's a sculpture of a woman, the same image from the stained glass, with water spilling from the moon in her upturned palms.  She's completely naked, I notice, flushing, but otherwise she's completely nondescript, no facial features, no particularly identifying marks, aside from her waist-length hair.  "Is that Nyx?" I ask.

Neferet turns and smiles at me.  Her hand is on my shoulder for the third, maybe fourth time.  I know she's trying to be comforting, but all it's doing is making my skin itch.  "Very good, Zoey! This is a sculpture of our goddess. You must have a special connection, to be able to recognize her so easily."

"Oh no," I say, shaking my head, "it was just a lucky guess.  I'm sorry."

"No need to sell yourself short, little one.  Even if it wasn't conscious, you've good instincts.  Be proud." She rubs my shoulder, for the fifth time, and my whole arm pricks up in goosebumps.  "You were chosen for the night, Zoey; you're one of the special ones."

"If you say so," I stutter.

Into Kayla's hand I squeeze, 'FISHY.'

'YEAH.  BE CAREFUL.'

With her hand still on my shoulder, Neferet guides us down one of the moonlit paths to a smaller stone building with the same gorgeous architecture.  Overlooking the grand front door is a circular stained glass window, with just a simple crescent moon in a deep blue background. Underneath that, there's an elegant sign that reads: Full Moon Dorm.  It's three stories, roughly, with a roof peaked in a couple different places to showcase more lead-paned windows, some stained glass, some not. The light coming from inside is soft, barely there and flickering, probably from more gas sconces.  Inside, I can see people milling about, watching tv and relaxing, normal stuff for a Monday evening. You know, if it weren't a dorm for little vampires in the making.

"This is the ladies dorm," Neferet explains.  "Since it's almost time for lunch, why don't you get changed into your uniform?  I'll guide Kayla back to the entrance."

"Sure thing, Professor," Stevie-Rae chirps, "I'll show Zoey the rest of the way."

"Oh-okay.  I guess I'll be seeing you then," I say to Kayla; we're both tearing up like little babies.  I clutch her hand in a white knuckled grip and pull her close, putting her forehead to mine. "You promise to call, right?"

"Every night.  I'll text you when I get home."  She pulls me into a tight hug and whispers in my ear, "keep your guard up, this place is creepy as hell."

I disguise my nod by tucking my head further into the crook of her neck.  The hug isn't nearly long enough in my humble opinion; before I know it Kayla's pulling me away, and pressing a goodbye kiss to the center of my mark.

"Bye-bye, Kay-Kay…" I don't usually go for her old childhood nickname, but this time it just feels right.

"Bye-bye, Zee-Zee."

Then, Neferet leads her away, her hand never leaving Kayla's shoulder.  Maybe I imagine it, but it almost looks like Neferet's gripping her with white knuckles.  I cry then, as they leave: big, ugly, wet sobs into my fist. I know I'm not going to see Kayla again, I can feel it.

Stevie-Rae opens her arms, and I cling to her.  She doesn't seem to mind that I'm getting her blouse all wet.  

"I've never had a friend like Kayla, so I don't know exactly how you're feeling right now…"  She says, patting my back. "But I remember what I felt when I had to say goodbye to my dad. It's really hard, saying goodbye to your old life, even harder when you're alone…  Will you let me be your friend? I know I'm not gonna replace Kayla—"

"That sounds wonderful, Stevie-Rae.  I don't think being alone would do me any good right now."

Her smile in response is soft, a little shy, like the moon peeking out from behind a cloudy sky.  Smiling's a great look on her, and I can't help but smile back.

"There we go!  Wipe them tears," she says, "that hoodie's going straight in the wash anyway."  With a gentle arm around my shoulders, Stevie-Rae guides me into the girl's dorm.  "Welcome to your new home, Zoey."

For all my fear and grief, it was hard to stay upset in a place like this.  The interior didn't match the rest of the architecture, but it was still regal and absolutely gorgeous, with gleaming wood floors and pale-blue, pinstripe wallpaper.  All over the first floor there were paintings and tapestries of historical vamp women, or ones painted by them, according to Stevie-Rae. I'm pretty culturally illiterate, but even I can tell that this stuff is special just by looking at them, aside from the little plaques that dot the walls next to each artwork.

"Wow, it's like a tiny museum in here…"

"Yeah, the school fought really hard to get as many originals as they could, but most of the ones in here are reproductions.  Apparently most of the paintings here are copies made by the same vamp. It's her affinity." Stevie-Rae peers at the paintings, then at the plaques, drags her finger along until she finds what she's looking for.  "Yep! Gwendolyn O'Dell: one of the foremost vamp artists right now. I really like her original stuff, but I think the school wants to teach us our history, you know?"

"Affinity?"

"Yeah, lots of vamps get special powers when they're marked.  Some of them can heal people, or communicate with animals, or even see the future.  It's crazy cool."

There aren't any humans in any of the pieces, nor human artists, which feels a little weird, but it  _ does _ make sense. It's like pulling off a bandaid; we're not human anymore, and the sooner we acclimate, the better.

But I don't want to acclimate.  I don't want to lose my family and friends, my whole life, up until now.  I want to go to Kayla's robotics competitions and pick lavender on Abuelita's farm and go to veterinary school, and hey, I'd even take this fucking species change, as long as it kept everything else the same.  But everyone knows that once you get marked, you might as well be dead. You're never seen again either way.

My resolve sets, as I follow Stevie-Rae up the stairs.  I'm not going to lose my friends, my family. I don't know how, and I don't particularly care, but I'm not going to let this change me.

For now, however, I'll make the best of my situation.

"So…  What do you do for fun around here?"

"Me in particular?  Or just in general?"

"Uh, both.  You first."

"Me, huh?  Hmmm…" Stevie-Rae's little button nose wrinkles as she thinks.  "I, uh, this is a little embarrassing… I ride, compete in rodeos 'n stuff…  I rope, too. I've been in the saddle since I could walk, practically. Papi's a rancher, so he taught me and my little sister everything he knew.  We used to travel for competitions and stuff, and in the summers we would herd at my aunt's ranch in Montana." She flushes a little. "I was gonna get a bachelor's in agricultural science after high school, and then work on Tía Berta's ranch... "

"Wait, seriously?"  What a small world! 

Her head snaps back to look at me with a shocked look, like she's expecting the worst.

"Oh I didn't mean it in a bad way," I explain quickly, "it's just a really cool coincidence!  My grandparents owned a cattle ranch too. My abuelita grows lavender there now, but she still keeps a few horses and sheep and stuff.  We moved up here from Argentina four—maybe five—generations ago."

She exclaims, "no way!  Do you ride?" 

"A little.  When I was a kid, I was always on the farm with Abuelita.  We had a grey horse that I named Bugs, like the bunny, and I probably rode him every weekend until I was about ten.  But then my mom remarried, and after that I didn't really see my grandma much. Never did any rodeo stuff though, I thought it was cool, but I was just really happy galloping around the ranch."

"You should totally try out the equestrian class here!  It's mostly English style stuff, but there's some western saddles hidden in the stable, if Professor Lenobia likes you enough," she says, grinning impishly.  "There's actually a fledgeling rodeo in June, between the Houses in Tulsa, Dallas, Rapid City and… Omaha? I think? Tulsa couldn't compete last year because there weren't enough riders, I heard."

Stevie-Rae shoulders open the door to the third floor, revealing a gorgeous common area, complete with a massive TV and overstuffed armchairs and couches.  There was an old black and white movie playing, but not many girls were paying attention. They all turned to watch Stevie-Rae and me as we entered, badly hiding their curious stares.

"Hey y'all!  So this is the new girl, Zoey, and she's just had a very long car ride so  _ no badgering! _  I'm gonna show her our room and get ready for lunch.  If she's up for chatting after class, we'll play truth or dare, or something…"  She grabs my wrist and tugs me along to hall extending left from the back of the common area, then pulls a key out of her pocket.  "This is us! Room three-oh-four…"

Our dorm room is probably nicer than most boarding schools, seeing as I've never seen one before. It has the same blue striped wallpaper and pale wood flooring, but there's a cream colored carpet between the two beds, and Stevie-Rae's side of the room is decked out with country music posters and what looks to be hand drawn art.  She's got a wall rack for two acoustic guitars hanging above her bed, a six-string and a beautiful twelve-string with white inlaid art on the fretboard.

"Nice place." Pointing to the twelve-string, I ask, "that guitar, is it just for show?"

Stevie-Rae gives me an impish smile.  "Nope! I can play both of those. It's a little bit of home.  I used to play with my little sister and Papi all the time. I'd sing and play, Papi would play and Sol would give us a beat.  Sometimes Churro would howl along, he's our dog, and Sol just babies him all the damn time…"

"That's amazing!  This _and_ horseback riding?  You're super talented! And your family sounds lovely," I gush.  I know she probably has her own problems, but her life sounds like heaven compared to mine.  I barely get to connect to my siblings anymore, since Penelope buries her stress in cheerleading, and Ben is always staying over with his friends, avoiding coming home at all costs.

"Aww, you're too sweet," she replies.  "Anyhow, we don't got time for compliments.  Your new uniform stuff is in your closet, so pick something so we can get goin' to the cafeteria.  Don't worry, everything'll fit, I promise. Vamps are weird like that, always knowing things like this.  We also don't get locks on our cubbies, because they always know when we have something to hide, so nobody steals here."

My blood runs cold for a moment; how exactly do they know all this?  And how much? But then I realize that even if I knew these things, it didn't mean I could do something about it.  If they're gonna discover my lack of commitment to vamp-ism, there's not a thing I can do to stop it. No use in fretting over nothing.

"That's a little spooky, but cool, I guess.  I mean, no stealing is pretty nice…" I leaf through my closet, looking for something comfortable.

There's a couple skirts, and a couple pants, some jeans and some nicer looking slacks, and some blouses, all in black and other dark tones.  Lots of purple. On the tops, there's a little silver patch with a spiral embroidered on it.

"Is this the school crest or something?"

Stevie-Rae peeks over my shoulder.  "Oh, nope! That's our year's symbol.  Each year has their own to identify us, and this is ours: Nyx's Labrynth.  It's supposed to represent the beginning of our journey, as we start to puzzle out what it means to be a vamp, or somethin'."

"Oh, neat," I say, and pull a elegant purple sweater off the rack, and grab the closest pair of jeans.

"I'll look away if you wanna change here, but if you want more privacy, the bathroom's right through there."  Stevie-Rae points to the door between the foot of her bed and her desk.

My jaw drops.  "We get our own bathroom?"

Stevie-Rae nods eagerly.  "Makes it kind of easy to get ready, no piling into a communal bathroom…"

I grab my makeup-kit out of my backpack.  It's not much, mostly concealer, eyeliner and lipgloss, but I want to look my best, so I take it with me into the bathroom and change.

 

* * *

 

I'd seen a glimpse of the cafeteria during Neferet's tour, but I hadn't been allowed inside while they were prepping for lunch.  Now inside, I'm floored. It's worlds away from the cold and overly bright cafeteria at my old high school. Its tall windows let in the gentle moonlight from outside, and the rest of the room is lit with crystal chandeliers that glittered like firelight.  The acoustics are leagues better than the ones at SIHS too; although plenty of fledgelings were already seated and chatting over dinner, I could still hear Stevie-Rae's voice.

"Don't worry, the grub's pretty good here… Probably not as good as home cookin', but at least they season their food."  Stevie-Rae says, grabbing a plate and a tray from the stack at the front of the cafeteria counter. 

I copy her, and start looking down the line at the offerings.  It's a self-serve buffet, with different stations all lined up along the wall.  There's a salad bar with more toppings than I've ever seen in my life, and some smaller spots with sandwich makings and what look to be just different side dishes.  It's hard to hold off, but I can't see the main dish of the night, so I wait patiently until I spy it: spaghetti bolognese.

"Hell yes."  I don't even realize I say that out loud until I hear Stevie-Rae laugh, a cute giggle that makes her look a little like a fairy.

"Their garlic bread is hella good," she says, and puts a chunk of crusty bread on my tray before grabbing her own.  "And it doesn't kill vamps, that's just a myth."

"Thank god," I murmur.  The spaghetti smells fantastic as I put it on my plate. (I think I'm drooling just a little...)  I don't bother putting anything else on my plate; no need to pretend I'm going to do anything but stuff my face with pasta.

"So," I ask as we round a decorated table piled high with wine and baskets of food,  "what's with that table? Is that another statue of Nyx on it?"

"Oh, right!  Yeah, that's Nyx's statue.  Everything on the table is an offering to her.  I kind of like it, you know? You can really feel her presence everywhere… Oh!  There's Damien—hey! Dami, I got my roommate!" She hurries over to a table near the window, where a brown haired boy is already sitting.  He looks up, mouth full of spaghetti, and waves at us.

"Zoey, this is Damien Maslin, one of my friends.  Dami, this is Zoey Montgomery, my new roomate." Stevie-Rae slips into the seat across from Damien, and I sit down in the seat next to Stevie-Rae, at the end of the bench.

"Nice to meet you," I say.

Damien pauses for a moment, swallowing.  "You too. And welcome," he says with a smile.  He's good looking, although admittedly I'm not really a good judge.  It looks like he hasn't shaved in a day or two, but he's got full enough stubble that it looks rugged instead of messy, and his hair is smoother than mine, braided back neatly and tied off with a black velvet ribbon.

"So, where's everyone," Stevie-Rae asks, around a mouth full of garlic bread.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Damien admonishes.  "Erin's running late, she got caught up in that ball gown project, and Shaunee's… Right behind you, actually.  Sweet timing," he says, waving.

I turn around just in time to see a gorgeous black girl sit down on the other side of Stevie-Rae.  Her hair's pulled back tight into a fluffy ponytail, showing off glittering silver dangle earrings, shaped like stars.  Around her neck are a pair of headphones, and she's wearing a leather jacket with gold wings embroidered on the back.

"Erin'll be here in a sec," Shaunee says.  "I bribed her to drop her project for the afternoon."

"I swear, you've got that girl wrapped around your little finger," Damien mutters.  Shaunee grins rackishly.

"Hey Shaunee, this is my new roommate, Zoey.  Zoey, this is Shaunee."

Shaunee looks me up down for a moment, then turns back to her salad and delicately pops a cherry tomato in her mouth.  "Welcome to Hell High."

Damien huffs.  "Does anyone have manners here?"

"Nah, it's fine," I say.  "Life's too short to be prim and proper."

"I like you," Shaunee points to me with her fork, smirking, and my heart skips a beat, she's so pretty. "So, whaddya think about the place so far? "

"It's pretty cool, I guess.  Definitely prettier than my old school, but I pretty much just got here."

"You going to class after lunch?"

"I think so.  Neferet gave me my schedule already…" I pull the slip of paper out of my back pocket.  "Looks like I have an elective: Drama or Poetry. Then Vampire Sociology?"

Stevie-Rae nods.  "Yeah, like, the stuff we need to know as we complete the change.  Cultural stuff, as well as lessons about the physical changes that happen to us.  Neferet's the professor, so it's actually interesting. Oh, look! You got equestrian study as an option for study hall too!  You gotta come to that, I'm in that class! Please?"

Spending some time with horses to end the day–err, night–honestly sounded like a great idea.  I hadn't been able to ride or even brush a horse in so long. "You know what? That sounds like tons of fun.  Do I have any classes with anybody else?"

"Here, let me see.  I mean, you won't have classes with me, because I'm in the grade above you, but still."  Shaunee laid my schedule out on the table so everyone could see.

"If you pick Poetry or Tae Kwon Do, you'll have those with me," Damien says, "They're multi-year electives."

"Sorry, I'm probably gonna go for Drama," I reply, "I loved Drama at my old school, and the teacher was just the assistant librarian, who gave us the period to read whatever plays we wanted.  This has gotta be better than that."

"So much better; Erik says he loves it—"

"Oh, does he now?" A slim girl with milk-white skin and red-blonde hair settles onto the bench next to Damien, bumping him over with her hip.  She leans over the table and gives Shaunee a little peck, saying, "hey babe, sorry I'm late…"

Then, she looks to me, giving the same appraising look that her girlfriend gave her.  "You must be Stevie's new rommie. I'm Erin." Her hand, when she holds it out for me to shake, is as delicate and pale of the rest of her, with long fingers and sky-blue manicured nails.  Her skin is unfairly soft.

(I'm not sure if I'm jealous of Shaunee, or Erin, or both; they're a goregeous couple.  It's funny, I'm not even gay, but I can see a catch when I see one.)

"Nice to meet you." I'm hoping that I pass whatever she's testing me on.

"So," Erin says with a mischievous grin, "what does Erik love?"

"C'mon Erin, don't tease him," Stevie-Rae scolds.

"Someone's gotta!  How else is he gonna know we love him?"

Damien simply rolls his eyes.  He must be used to this. "I was saying, Drama class has Erik's seal of approval."

"Oh yeah, I took that last year. Professor Nolan rocks, you should totally take it.  There's a whole series of Drama courses for all four years, if you're thinking about acting.  Here, lemme see what you've got."

Erin hums as she looks over my schedule.  "Geometry first hour? Ouch. Good teacher though.  I think you'll have Lit with Elizabeth, she's pretty cool, then Spanish… Stevie, you in that?"

Stevie-Rae shakes her head.  "They decided I was too proficient and put me in Chinese."

"Right.  And then just phys ed.  If you haven't chosen yet, I'd go with Fencing, because it's fucking—"

"Language," Damien chides.

"—badass.  So badass. Just take fencing, you'll thank me later."

"What are you in, Stevie-Rae?" I turn to my roomate.

"I'm in Tae Kwon Do, actually.  I really like kickin' butt, and it's really fun to watch Erik give Damien goo-goo eyes when he watches Damien fight."

"I'm sorry, I thought you said we shouldn't be teasing Damien," Erin says.

"Hey, quick question.  When y'all mention Erik, are you talking about the tracker?"

"Oh right!  He got tracking duty last week, didn't he?" Stevie-Rae says.  "Did he mark you?"

"Yeah.  He seemed alright, I guess.  A little too happy for the circumstances, but he wasn't creepy or anything."

"So, you must be the new girl," says a voice behind me.  My table-mates all freeze like deer in the headlights. "Zoey Montgomery, right?  Here." 

She shoves an envelope into my hands: an invitation of some kind.  Said invitation is fucking  _ gilded; _ sturdy black cardstock, with gold scrollwork— _ gold lettering _ —and my name’s written in calligraphy inside, humbly requesting my presence at Aphrodite LaFont’s Samhain celebration, which I assume is a fancy way of saying 'Halloween Party'.  

I have no idea how she got my name on the day of my arrival, but I can't say I feel honored.

I glance up at her; she’s an imperious looking girl, with deep purple flowers braided in her white-blonde hair. They match her dress, of course, and even her eyeliner is slightly purple and shimmering. She doesn't seem the type to half ass anything, which definitely explains the invitations.

“I expect your schedule is free,” she says, looking at my friends in turn. A hush is coming over the cafeteria as everyone starts to watch us; this girl must be popular, or something.

“No, I was thinking of going trick-or-treating, actually.” I buff my fingernails on my sweater, bored. I try to play it up, to get a rise out of her.  This girl, Aphrodite, I assume, looks like the kind of girl to get huffy over nothing.

“What’re you dressing up as?” She pretends to be interested. It’s the kind of smug, sweet tone that makes me want to punch her.  Just a little.

“I was thinking a witch; can I borrow something of yours?” There’s a delighted, shocked look on Erin’s face; Shaunee snorts.

Aphrodite snatches back her invitation and stalks off. “You know what, never mind! Have fun begging for candy!”

I call after her, “so is that a no to borrowing your dress?”

Our table dissolves into giggles.

“Do you know who that was?”

"Aphrodite something?  That's what it said on the invite…" I say.

"Yeah, head of the Dark Daughters, Aphrodite LaFont.  Neferet's her mentor too, so you'll probably be seeing her around on advisement days and stuff," Shaunee says, "I do not envy you."

"I dunno," Stevie-Rae replies, "I kind of feel bad for Aphrodite.  It never seems like she's having any fun. Sure, she's got that fancy title, but it seems like it's all work n' no play for her…"

"Stevie-Rae, you are an angel, but even so, Aphrodite isn't worth your worries."  Damien pats her on the shoulder. "If she can't find her own way to happiness, then that's her problem, not yours."

Stevie-Rae pushes her spaghetti around on her plate, sighing.  "I know, I know…"

"So," I try to change the subject, "do any of you have plans for Halloween?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could go further, but this chapter is already 5k and I want to post shit. Next up will be worldbuilding, more gay shit, and horses. And ghosts. See you around :)
> 
> Some notes about character changes:  
> • Stevie-Rae is latina too, so I changed her last name.  
> • I didn't want to look up Zoey's siblings names, so I made them up.  
> • I told you I was making this gay :3 Erin and Shaunee are dating (and they don't have the same personality anymore)  
> • Damien's character got a complete reworking  
> • I am not a coward; all the boys have long hair, because what's the use if everyone has accelerated hair growth but you stick to standard gender roles?


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey makes a new friend, and settles into her new life, for better or for worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOH NEW TAGS JESS? WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING YOU RAPSCALLION?
> 
> Sorry for all the caps, I'm a little hyped up.
> 
> This chapter took longer than expected, because I kept rewriting a couple of dialogue scenes over and over again, trying to get it right. I think it turned out alright in the end, and I definitely like the way this chapter kickstarts both the plot and some personal growth for Zoey. I have a lot planned for her, and maybe, if I did this right, you can start to see the seeds of where I'm going with all this?
> 
> Anyhow, I'll save the details of what I've changed until the end notes. Enjoy!

Trying to avoid a food coma after lunch, I snag a mug of coffee to go and head to Drama class.  They don't have paper cups here! Which is a little strange, but they have reusable cups instead, ones that you have return to special stations around campus to get your dollar back.  It's a pretty cool system, all things considered.

Drama class is, luckily, pretty close to the cafeteria, and I make it there while the classroom is still empty.  Even the classrooms here are fancy. Although the ceilings are lower and the windows smaller, the wall across from the door is eighty percent lead-paned window, with two lines of cubbies underneath, and everything looks antique, including the desks.

True to Stevie's word earlier, there's no doors or locks on the cubbies.  Each one is stuffed with a bag, or just books, but there's no personalization on them at all, which made me do a double-take.  I mean, I never put anything on my locker at my old school, but plenty of people did, and this place has absolutely nothing. If it were just that kids brought their stuff from room to room, that would be one thing, but Stevie had told me this morning that we all get a permanent cubby in our homeroom.

Maybe it's because they don't want to damage the wood?  It's not like there's wood-magnets.

A chalkboard spans the entire left wall, halfway covered in notes, and in front of that, a small stage takes up about a quarter of the room, with rounded edges and soft spotlights pointing up from the front edge.  It looks almost professional, it's crazy.

"Do you like it?"  I'm startled three feet into the air.  As smoothly as I can, I look over my shoulder.

It's Erik, looking pretty as ever.  His hair's down now, pulled back with a purple satin headband.  It's an excellent look for him. I'm starting to understand why Damien turned so pink when we teased him.

"Huh?"   _ Smooth. _

"The stage.  Do you like it?"

"Oh!  Yeah, totally.  My old school's drama program was shit.  Our actual drama class didn't even have a teacher, we were just supervised by the librarian," I say.  "Half the kids just used the time to sleep."

"Well, don't expect to catch much shut-eye with Professor Nolan.  She's a powerhouse."

Suddenly, a pun comes to me, "I wouldn't  _ dream _ of it."

" _ Ha ha.  _ Very cute."  

Erik strolls to the back wall; I follow him back and say, "hold on, aren't you a little old to be in Intro Drama?  I thought you were in Damien's year." I leave out the part about his apparent heart eyes for Damien, even though I really, really want to tease him too.

"...yup," he says.  A careful finger traces the spines of the playbooks along the back wall; he's barely paying attention to me.  "Professor Nolan asked me to do a monologue demonstration for your class today, but I forgot until today to pick out a damn monologue…"

There must be three dozen books to choose from.  Not all of them are monologues, in fact, most of them are just plays.  There's one book labeled "Monologues for Teens" which I grab, right as Erik pulls a copy of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night off the shelf.

"At least it's not Hamlet," I mutter.  Erik laughs.

"Nah, I don't wanna be too predictable.  You get to read much Shakespeare in your old school?"

Shaking my head I spit, "just Romeo and Juliet."

"I never did understand how reading a play about volatile lovestruck teenagers was good for volatile lovestruck teenagers.  They could've at least done something  _ fun _ ."

"Exactly!  Literally _ any  _ comedy would be better _. _ "  I head back to the stage and flop down on the edge dramatically, dangling my right arm and leg off the edge.  Erik sits down next to my head, non-dramatically. "To be honest, I'm not even sure  _ why _ high schools teach Shakespeare when the execution just ruins any interest in him for years to come."

"Agreed."  Erik nods resolutely.  "Say… I wanted to apologize for thralling your girlfriend.  And probably scaring the shit out of you in the process. I know I came off strong that day."

"Just a little." I reply.  "No offence. And Kayla's not my girlfriend."  I'm pretty sure Kayla's not straight, but with conservative parents like hers and mine, we never really talked about it.

"None taken.  I was super pumped up to mark someone, and I kind of just… dropped you waaay into the deep end.  Getting marked was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I never stopped to think that it might not be the same for somebody else."  He doesn't make eye contact.

"Crappy home life?" I ask, casually.

Erik nods, looking only at his knees.

"Me too, don't worry.  So far, this is an improvement."

Aside from Kayla not being around.  The spot where she always links her arm around mine feels cold and too light, when I walk around the halls.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Only if you do."

We actually  _ do _ talk for a good five minutes, complaining about public schools and bad teachers and, softly, about fathers who don't love us. Then the professor comes in; a dark haired, dark skinned woman in an ankle length, plum colored dress.  On her breast is a silver pin with the same crescent moon and woman symbol that I saw on that stained glass window by the entrance.

Instead of scolding us for sitting on the edge of the stage, she settles down next to me and shakes my hand in the traditional vampire way, grabbing my forearm.

"You must be the new fledgling," she says, her deep brown eyes glittering.  "I'm Patricia Nolan, your drama professor. Feel free to call me by my first name, all the other students do."

"It's nice to meet you, Patricia."  Calling a teacher by her first name feels foreign, but she gives me a smile that warms me from the inside out.  "I'm really looking forward to your class."

"You are?  That's wonderful to hear.  You're right in time to start our new unit."  Just then, she notices the book in my hands, and says, "looks like you've even got a head start!  Would you like to read for a bit while I get set up?"

* * *

Up until the end of Astronomy, things go pretty smoothly for a first day of school.  Lots of introductions, lots of "welcome to your new life"s, which is, admitedly starting to feel a bit creepy.

I'm feeling pretty optimistic about "my new life" even.  The closer I get to the end of the day, the more I remember that I don't have to go home to mama and John, to fighting and meaningless prayers before dinner.  It's a relief.

Then, Elliott, the boy sitting next to me, gets asked to stay behind after class.

Which I kind of get, he  _ did _ nod off in class, but it honestly looked like he couldn't help it!  It wasn't like he brought a pillow to class and flipped off the teacher, he had his textbook out the whole time, and did his best to stay awake.  It's just that the sandman got the better of him, towards the end of class.

As class ends, Elliot's head is still propped up with his hand as he sleeps.  The bell wakes him with a jolt.

"Eliott," Professor Blake almost growls, "you stay.  We need to talk."

His tone says everything he didn't: Elliott's about to get reamed.

It even doesn't matter that I haven't had a single conversation with the guy, the moment I hear the professor's voice, something inside me locks into place, and I hide right outside the doorway, waiting to jump to Elliott's defense.

"What is it, Professor?"  Elliot voice quivers, despite being slurred with sleep.

More calmly than before, Professor Blake says, "I just want you to answer a question for me."

"Uh...  Okay, sure."

"How do you expect to survive the Change like this, Elliott?" There's a pause, then the sound of a chair sliding across the floor.  I very nearly make my move then, when I hear Professor Blake move, but I hold off. "How in the world do you expect to become a noble warrior if you don't have the discipline to stay awake in class?"

"Sir, I'm sorry—"

"DON'T GIVE ME SORRY!"  I flinch when he raises his voice.  It sets off something young and frightened deep inside me, and I'm suddenly pinned to the wall, unable to move.

More quietly, the professor says, "give me results, Elliott.  I've been doing my best to mentor you… I've held your hand,  _ practically tucked you in to bed _ —dammit Elliott, I can't force you to be a man!  I want you to survive! I really do! But no matter what I do you still fail.  You're a disappointment—no, worse than a that—you're a lamb waiting idly for slaughter."

"I'm sorry, sir.  I'll try to do better."  I hear footsteps, just for a moment.

"Hey!  Did I dismiss you?"

"No sir.  I'm sorry, sir."  Elliot's voice holds no intonation at all.   

Professor Blake huffs.  "Fine. You're dismissed.  Get to study hall. I'm not writing you a late pass."

"Yessir."

Elliott emerges from the classroom a second later, his head hanging low.  When he sees me, a thousand different versions of pain and anger cross his face before he grabs me by the front of my sweater.

"You bitch! Were you eavesdropping?"  His voice is still quiet, like he doesn't want Blake to hear.

I hiss, "I was worried about you, okay?"  I peel his hand off my shirt. "Blake had no right to yell at you like that.  You looked hella tired, not like you were blowing off his class for nothing… And really?  Telling you you're gonna die? That's crossing so many fucking lines."

Elliott sighed.  "Sorry. I'm a little on edge."  He shoved his wavy, red hair away from his face.  

"I'd be too, if a six-foot-two vamp screamed at me.  That's no reason to take it out on me though." Gently, with my hand where he can see it, I place my hand on Elliott's shoulder and guide him down the hall, away from the classroom.  Under my hand, I can feel how skinny and bony he is, but I don't let my shock show. "Is this the first time he's done this?"

"I wish," he replies bitterly. 

"Have you told anyone?"

"All the professors take his side.  It's not like he's lying. I know I'm not gonna survive."

"Hey.  Don't you dare say that."  I grab his other shoulder and turn him to look me in the eye.  "If you say that kind of shit, he wins."

"Why the hell are you even here?  You don't know me."

_ I don't know.  Men are scary like that, when they lay that power down on you, when they make you feel small.  I should've cut in, raised my voice to that bastard like he did to you, but I'm a coward, so the least I can do is bandage your wounds. _

I don't tell him that.

"I just felt like shit was about to go down.  I didn't want you to be alone in case it got worse.  Like I said, you didn't deserve any of that."

"How heroic," he mutters.

"I know, aren't I the best?"

Elliott smacks my hand off his shoulder, but not hard.  "Screw you."

"Would it be alright if I walked with you to study hall?  If there's any day for me to be late to class, it's my first day…  I'm sure you're tough enough to walk alone, but  _ I'm  _ lonely.  I don't know if I'll make it without your company," I say, fake swooning.

"Fine.  You seem like you'll get along with my study hall professor anyway."

"What's your study hall?"

"Horse class.  Lenobia's super chill, you'll like her."

"Sweet!  I've got horse class next too.  Looks like I won't be late after all," I say.  "I didn't know you liked horses."

Elliott flushes, scrubs his pink face with his hands.  "My dad always said it was some pussy shit, but I was always a little curious… They really are beautiful animals.  I feel so calm around them."

"I know, right?  My grandma has a farm not too far from here, and she used to keep horses.  I haven't been able to be around them in years, so I'm really looking forward to it."

We arrive in front of a set of heavy looking double doors with round stained glass windows.  There's another scene of the moon and stars, and on the window on the right, something that looks awfully like the crystal Erik used when he marked me, down to the strange dots of black in the grey glass.

"This will take us straight to the stables," Elliott says.

We spend the rest of the walk in silence.  I'm half matching up this new path with the tour of the campus that Neferet gave me earlier tonight and half staring in wonder at the beautiful moon and stars.  My night vision is scary good now, and even through the city sky-glow, I can see the stars watching over me.

For the first time since I got marked, I'm finally starting to relax.  It's funny, but horse poop never really smelled bad to me, and the smell of the stable as we approach is familiar, warm and earthy.  I don't even care if they have me mucking stalls, I'm so happy to be here.

Elliott catches my smile, and grins back.  "It's a pretty nice way to end the day, right?"

"Totally."  

"And… Thanks.  I'm really sorry for grabbing you like that.  That wasn't cool. And calling you a bitch. Also not cool."

I pat him on the shoulder.  "Apology accepted. You were worked up.  Just remember," I say, as I push open the stable doors.  "You're not alone. Next time Professor Blake says that shit, come straight to me.  Don't hold it in."

He says, "I'll try."

Elliott turns, stares at me for a long moment.  There's this weird look on his face, like he's trying to hide what he's feeling, but can't get it quite right.  His arms lift up, just a little, but then he presses them tightly to his sides. 

I wonder if he was going for a hug, but I decide to leave it for now.

"Good."

The paddock gates creak open. 

A vampyre woman with silver hair, Professor Lenobia, I'm guessing, leads a gorgeous, sleek-coated, mare into the barn.  Her face is carved with deep wrinkles, especially around her mouth, where beautiful smile lines make their home. There's strength in the way she carries herself,  _ and _ in her muscled forearms, shown off by the rolled up sleeves of her spring green button-up.  I'm staring. I know it, I can't help it, and I kind of don't wanna stop. She's  _ exactly _ who I want to be when I grow old: fucking ripped at eighty and spending all my time with horses.    

"Professor Lenobia?  I'm Zoey Montgomery."  I manage not to stutter.

The professor doesn't bother looking at me.  She's busy getting the mare settled in her stall.  

"I heard I might be getting a new student today…  I'm glad to hear you've chosen to spend your study hall here.  But I must warn you, these are animals, not—" she clasps her hands together over her heart, a parody of doe-eyed love— "a girl's bestest friend.  They're a big responsibility. A rewarding one, but a responsibility nonetheless."

"I understand, Professor.  My grandmother kept horses on her farm, when I was younger."

She looks at me appraisingly, then turns to Elliott.  "What do you think? She cool?"

"Yes ma'am.  She's cool." He smiles at me.

"Perfect.  If you've been around horses before, then you've got no problems mucking stalls today," she says.  "It is your first day after all. Wouldn't want you getting a big head."

"It's no problem at all, Professor."  

It really isn't.  There's a rightness in the work that reaches all the way down to my bones.  I finally feel at home, shovelling shit in the the wee hours of the morning, no matter how strange that sounds.  

As I work, I'm brought back to fall days working on Abuelita's farm, hay and lavender blossoms tangled in my braids.  I mucked stalls there too, alongside my grandma, singing along with the radio. After we cleaned up, we'd grill steaks outside and Mama would make fresh tortillas, and, if I had been really good, I'd get to roast marshmallows on the leftover coals in the grill.

Things had been so much better back then.  Before John.

I'm finishing up the last stall I was assigned, laying down fresh hay, when Elliott rides by on another gorgeous horse, an appaloosa.  He's not alone; Lenobia is leading his horse for him as he breathlessly fixes his bun.

"Looks like you had fun," I say, smiling.

"I just tried out galloping for the first time!"  Elliott replies. "It was  _ terrifying _ .  But I think I like it?"

I brush off some stray hay from my jeans, and slip out of the stall.  "I'm glad! There's really nothing quite like it." Turning to the professor, I say, "I've finished all the stalls you've assigned me, Professor.  Is there anything else I can do?"

"Teacher's pet, huh?"  I don't exactly deny it, but she continues anyway.  "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You did a really good today, Zoey.  If you want to, you can brush down Persephone here with Elliott.  As a treat for a job well done."

"Really?  Thank you."

Lenobia points to the gear rack in the back.  "Brushes are over with the rest of the supplies.  Put your rake away, and feel free to stay as long as you like."

I come back with a brush for me and a brush for Elliott, but, on my way back, something makes me stop.  There's a shimmer in the air, like pavement on a hot day. Or like when you freeze water in a bottle halfway, so there's barely shadows of the ice inside, floating around.

For a second, I swear the shimmer looks like the silhouette of a man, walking towards Elliott.  The figure grabs onto Elliott's shoulders, but after that it disappears, and I'm standing there with my mouth agape, trying to make heads or tails of the thing I just saw.

"What're you standing there for?"  Elliott calls.

"Sorry, sorry.  I think I got a bit of dust in my eyes."  I pass Elliott his brush. "Hey, before I forget, I wanted to apologize too.  For not stepping in when Blake was screaming at you. I should've done something."

"Whatever," he grumbles, brushing a little too hard at Persephone's coat. "I deserved it."

What?  How the hell could Elliott think he deserves something like that?  "What do you mean?"

"I meant what I said.  Just look at me—" he waves his arms up and down his person— "how could someone like me ever become a vampire?"

For a moment, I'm not sure what to say.  Nobody knows who's gonna survive the Change, not even adult vamps.  But somehow Elliott thinks he's simply incapable. 

Elliott thinks he's going to die.

All I know is that I don't know the right thing to say.  Nobody ever taught me to do when someone is suicidal, if this even counts as suicidal.  I don't wanna be some perky asshole and make things worse, but I can't say nothing either.  

In the end, I go for, "you'll become a vamp in the same way we all do."

My voice is watery and nervous.  Elliott laughs at me, coldly.

"So you think some wimp like me is gonna magically transform into a super hot vampire warrior?  Look me in the eye and tell me that I'm good enough."

"You are, Elliott.  You're absolutely good enough."  I do exactly as he says, but he just laughs in my face again.

"What the hell do you know anyway?  You haven't even been here a week!" He hurls his curry brush to the ground, and storms off.

That's when I see it again: the man-shaped shimmer curling over Elliott as he stalks away.  

Up close, I can see facial features in reverse through the back of the figure's head.  It's a man's face; broad, with a wide mouth contorted in rage and a brow like a stony overhang.  His arms are gripping Elliott's shoulders so violently I can actually see dips in the cloth of his uniform, despite how insubstantial the man seems.

Once could be a trick of the light, but  _ twice _ ?

And then there had been Elliott's sudden change in mood.  Right when the ghost, for lack of a better term, showed up.  I'm not one to believe much in the supernatural, but it's one thing to not believe grainy videos online, and another to not believe when you're staring it right in the face.

I'm still so out of it, thinking about what I'd just seen, that Stevie-Rae startles me when she comes up to my stall.

"Sorry!  I didn't mean to give you a spook," she says.  I'm not sure if she's talking to me or Persephone, who is happily letting Stevie stroke her velvet nose.  "So? What did you think?"

I know she's curious if I liked the class, but my brain's stuck, frozen with the image of the ghost still in my mind.  

"Class was great.  I just..." I pause, trying to think of the best way to explain a ghost sighting on my first day of school, "do people get haunted at the House of Night?  I know it sounds crazy."

"Haunted?"  Stevie-Rae squints at me.  "You're serious?"

I nod.  "Yeah. It was weird, there was this wavy, shimmery look to the air all around Elliott, shaped like a man, and after that he was suddenly really angry at me, and he just stormed off.  Left his brush and everything." I point to the abandoned curry brush on the other side of the stall.

Eagerly, Stevie-Rae takes up where Elliott left off, grooming Persephone with practiced ease.  "Shimmery, huh?"

"I know, it sounds like someone slipped something into my coffee, but I swear, I'm telling the truth.  Barely believe it myself, except for the fact it happened twice."

"No, I believe you."  She looks around surreptitiously, then murmurs, "I've felt a few funny things since coming here myself.  Not ghosts, but there's definitely something fishy going on. Later, at dinner, tell Damien. He knows lots about vamp magic, maybe he'll know what's going on."

After that, we finish grooming Persephone in silence.  My good mood isn't completely soured, but I don't exactly want to gush about my day either.  I just want to keep winding down. Maybe tomorrow I'll be ready to share my rediscovered love of horses with Stevie.

"Say, Zoey?"  Stevie sounds… nervous?  She looks it too, the way she's bouncing up and down on her heels.

"What's up?"

"So, I um…  I noticed how you were talking to Aphrodite at lunch, calling her a witch 'n stuff.  And I mean, it  _ was _ kinda funny, but I couldn't help but feel that it was also a bit mean.  You don't really know Aphrodite, y'know? You just started making jokes about her clothing without introducing yourself…"

Stevie-Rae pauses, twirling a chunk of hair in her fingers.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is—and I know maybe this is a little childish—is that I don't want to be friends with mean people.  I want to be friends with you, I really do, but not if it means you're gonna keep treating Aphrodite like that. I don't want to be friends with cruel people.  And if that's just the way you are… Well, I'd rather cut my losses here, if you don't mind."

It takes a moment for Stevie's words to sink in.  When they do, I flush, a little angry, mostly embarrassed.  Stevie-Rae's picking this encounter to judge me by? When we were getting along so well, too!  And all her friends had found it funny—I immediately make a list, completely on the defensive. But then I realize, this is what Stevie's so nervous about.  That I'm not going to listen to her correct and polite advice, and that she's going to lose her new friend.

No matter my first instinct to defend myself, Stevie-Rae's right.  I  _ had _ been cruel.

"You're right," I say.  "I'm sorry, I didn't think before I spoke, at lunch."

All the tension washes free of Stevie's face and shoulders.  She replies, "Don't say sorry to me! Say sorry to Aphrodite, she's the one you hurt."

"Right, right.  Next time I see her, I'll apologize right away."

With a soft smile, Stevie-Rae slides out of the stall, and beckons me.  "C'mon. Enough serious stuff, let's get cleaned up for supper."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so first off, three notable character changes.
> 
> 1) Elliott is no longer chubby. I don't see a lot of male characters suffering from eating disorders, and especially combined with Elliott's character arc regarding toxic masculinity, I thought it was a worthwhile narrative to work with. Also, spoiler alert I guess--Elliott is surviving the whole damn series. Probably not that much of a surprise though.
> 
> 2) Loren Blake does not teach poetry. He's still gonna be a creep though. I always thought he reminded me of Akio from Utena, so I thought I'd make the reference complete and make him teach astronomy. I can also tell you right now that there will definitely be predatory behavior involving him, but it's not gonna be of the OMG FORBIDDEN LUV variety. And it won't be explicit.
> 
> 3) Lenobia is actually old. If you're catching hints of author appeal here, it's because I'm fucking gay, but I mostly did this because I absolutely, unequivocally _hate_ how women in the HoN series are old, but they're still hot because they only look to be in their thirties or forties. PC CAST YOU ARE A COWARD. Not only are old ladies beautiful and sexy, but their value has literally nothing to do with the way they look! Look forward to a much bigger role from Lenobia in this story, because she is my absolute favorite character.
> 
> Aside from that, we've got a minor rewrite of Erik's character, writing him like a person instead of a part of Zoey's starter harem, as well as giving him a real backstory. We will definitely be seeing more of him. We're also starting upon the plot, which is where this is really gonna veer away from HoN's original plot. If you could call Marked a plot. It'll be an adventure for all of us!
> 
> A shoutout to VortexFM for being such an excellent pal and cheering me on! Thank you so much for all your motivation so far! :D


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